


Confessions

by telera



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Daddykink, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-25
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-12 23:47:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telera/pseuds/telera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will finds a way to deal with stress, and Hannibal is not pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on some half-remembered prompts from the kinkmeme; somebody wanted Jack spanking Will and then Hannibal finding out; and somebody requested that Will get off on the word naughty? If I remember correctly? Anyways. Hope you enjoy it ^^ Adding the dub-con tag just in case.

'Is there something you want to tell me?'

 

It always begins like this. Will knows the routine by now, knows Jack loves to tease. Still, it's never easy to say the words Jack wants to hear. So he hesitates. Smiles, chuckles, bites his bottom lip. All the while Jack is looking at him.

 

'No, well, I...'

 

Will feels the heat creeping up his cheeks and tries again.

 

'Yeah, I kinda...'

 

Jack waits patiently for a proper reply, fixing his eyes on Will's face, fully aware of  what it does to the young man. Will feels the intense gaze boring into him, and knows Jack is enjoying himself. That's why he allows it. Because if Jack is enjoying himself, then maybe, _maybe_ he won't hurt Will too bad.

 

'I sent you the report about the last case'.

 

Lame, even to Will's standards, but he cannot unsay it now. Jack doesn't reply, and his face hardens visibly. Fuck, fuck, this is going to end badly.

 

'I wanted to tell you...'

 

Will sits in one of the chairs in front of Jack's desk and changes tactics. He needs to act quickly, _now_ , he can still can save the situation. But of course, Jack is not going to make it easy for him. He remains silent, like a solid brick wall for Will to climb at his own risk.

 

'...to tell... you' he mutters fixing his gaze on the stray paperclip on Jack's desk 'I...'

 

Will can't do it. He cannot get himself to say the words that would start this ritual, the only thing that's been keeping him sane since he began to work in Jack's team. He pleads with his eyes, lifting them to focus on Jack's chin. He doesn't dare to go up his face.

 

'S-sorry' he whispers, and Jack leaves his place behind the desk with a heavy sigh. For a split second, a wave of relief washes though Will. Jack is relenting, yes, he's going to help him. But he feels a sudden fear twisting his gut when all Jack does is locking the door of his office.

 

'Maybe now you can tell me' his deep voice intones, and Jack moves to sit exactly where he was only a moment ago. Only his face is rock granite now.

 

Will takes off his glasses and closes his eyes. He'll say it. He'll say it, but he won't look at Jack.

 

'I've been... bad'.

 

The tension in the room lifts somehow. Will can feel it around him, and lets himself be cradled in the moment.

 

'I'm sorry, daddy' he whispers, and hopes with all his might it is enough.

 

He hears Jack leaving his chair again, feels his strong presence coming closer. Will gasps as Jack's fingers brush his, taking his glasses and leaving them on his desk.

 

'How bad?' he asks, and his voice has a gravel tone now, he's almost there, Will can tell, but not quite yet.

 

'Ve-very' he stammers truthfully, and for a second he makes eye contact with Jack, who is perched on the edge of his desk, waiting.

 

Will focuses on the papers on the desk again, feeling a slight tremor down his body. He's sweating now, and hot, and his mouth is dry, and still Jack hasn't moved. He needs to move so that there is room enough for him to lean on the desk, to bend over and receive the spanking that will ground him to reality a few more days, until the case is solved. Jack's broad, warm hands can do that, exorcise the ghosts under Will's lids for a little while, a little longer until the killer has been caught and is safely behind bars. The whole daddy stuff makes it more effective. Like taking aspirins with coffee. Far form advisable, yeah. But sometimes, it's the only thing that keeps Will going. Like this.

 

'Come here, Will'.

 

Jack has sat down on his chair, and pats his lap twice. A sudden heat electrifies Will, and the feeling makes him lightheaded.

 

'I will not say it twice, boy' Jack warns, and the tone in his words is enough to have Will on his feet in a moment. He leans awkwardly over Jack's knee and cries out at the first blow, which comes hard and unforgiving. Jack is always like this, and Will knows there's nothing he can say or use to make him stop. 

 

'I'm sorry, daddy' Will whispers in his head, but all that comes out of his mouth is a whimpering sob.

 

His ass is throbbing in pain when Jack finishes. He won't sit for the rest of the day, but that's fine. Will accepts the handkerchief Jack offers him and dries his eyes, blows his nose.

 

'Is there something you'd like to tell me?' Jack asks, and Will has no strength left to fight with the words rolling in his mouth.

 

'Thank you, daddy'.

 

Jack unlocks the door of his office and nods. As Will leaves he feels a shiver down his spine. He knows one day this will not be enough. He knows one day Jack will pull his pants down. And when he does... Will leaves quickly. He knows that Jack is watching him, and he sincerely hopes he mistakes his trembling for something else.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Hannibal notices. At first it's just a little wince as Will sits down. Then it's a huff. A muted cry. There are days when Will shifts uncomfortably in his chair and others when he simply prefers to stand. Always with that smile of his, that nervous twitch of his lips and the half-stammered half-chuckled apology.

 

Hannibal rules out sex. Too complicated for Will, too dangerous to loose himself in the pattern of desire of another person. Sometimes Hannibal wonders if Will even masturbates, and which ghosts he sees behind tightly closed eyes. Because whenever and wherever he does it, Hannibal knows Will closes his eyes.

 

Then it hits him.

 

'It's damn cold chilly for April. Jack was telling me I should be wearing woollen pants, and he's right'.

 

It's a tiny, innocent comment, but it changes everything. Hannibal marvels at Will's ability not to see the many layers of meaning he has just unconsciously revealed. It's 10:15 a.m. on a Sunday morning, and Will hasn't even had breakfast yet. They're attending a Bach concert matiné, yet Will comes straight from Jack Crawford's house with a comment about his pants. Bile rises up in Hannibal's throat, a black sticky knot that he swallows down with difficulty.

 

'Coffee?' Hannibal mutters as he gestures the way to the kitchen.

 

'Sure, I'm starving' Will cheerfully replies.

 

Will's happy, carefree response makes the black knot swell in Hannibal's throat, yet still he manages a strained, little smile.

 

***

 

Jack Crawford hasn't been ill a day in his life, and only missed that day at school when he and Jimmy McAllister fell from a bridge and both broke a leg. He has never _ever_ called in sick until now. And actually, it's not him who calls the FBI office. It's the ER doctor, who still cannot explain how this healthy, robust man could show such a severe case of food poisoning overnight.

 

 

***

 

With Jack facing a long recovery in the hospital, it takes Will three days to become restless. Six to loose focus. Nine to become a nervous wreck.

 

'Doctor Lecter. So-sorry to disturb you but-'

 

Again, Hannibal wonders at how much information Will leaks unintentionally. He hasn't been "Doctor Lecter" for weeks now, and Will hasn't apologized for coming to his house at late hours for even longer. Some would think it lovely, this unconscious lapse, but for Hannibal it only signals that this trembling morsel of talent and insecurities is ripe for expert, knowing teeth to sink into his flesh. Hannibal switches on the lights of his study again and leaves his coat on the hanger.

 

'Please, come in' he says, wetting his lips briefly as Will enters his office.

 

'Something has happened' Hannibal states, and Will runs a shaky hand over his forehead 'Please, take a seat'.

 

It is a good idea, and Will puts some distance between them gladly, but his chair is facing Hannibal's, and such a frontal confrontation only makes him more nervous.

 

'Nightmares again?' Hannibal ventures in a calculated neutral tone.

 

'No' Will shakes his head and shifts uncomfortably.

 

Hannibal occupies his chair and nods.

 

'Something related to one of your cases, then'.

 

'More or less' Will replies avoiding his gaze.

 

Hannibal counts until ten before continuing. Counts _slowly_.

 

'You've never had trouble telling me what's troubling you Will. That you have now is... significant'.

 

'It's...' Will swallows hard, but to his merit, he manages to complete the full sentence 'It's not something we've discussed before'.

 

Hannibal clasps his hands over his lap.

 

'It embarrasses you' he says, and both know it's not a question.

 

Will nods and fixes his eyes on the rug.

 

'When our emotions make us feel uncomfortable, it's usually because we're judging them with the standards of others. Take guilt, for example. Teenagers feel guilty when they masturbate because they're judging their behaviour according to their parents' standard'.

 

'I'm not a teenager. And _that_ is hardly my problem'.

 

Denial always tastes like raspberries to Hannibal. It's one of his favourite flavours.

 

'What is your problem, then?'

 

Hannibal watches Will leave the armchair and pace the office in silence.

 

'I... It's complicated'.

 

'All problems are' Hannibal replies impassively 'But they all have a solution'.

 

'I don't... Don't want to talk about it' Will says in a whisper.

 

'Yet here you are. Maybe you _need_ to talk about it'.

 

Will cards his fingers through his hair and lets out a strangled whimper. He isn't probably aware of it, though.

 

Hannibal takes his cue and leaves his armchair, walking up to where Will is standing and pressing his hand on to his shoulder.

 

'Trust me' Hannibal mutters, and feels the shiver that follows his touch as an electric current. Hannibal leaves his hand there longer than necessary, and is immensely pleased when Will doesn't reject the touch. He is so touch starved that Hannibal could literally mould him like clay. Which he intends to do.

 

'The stress...' Will starts, and his voice breaks beautifully 'The stress is sometimes too much to bear'.

 

'I know' Hannibal replies, caressing Will's shoulder with his thumb.

 

'S-sometimes I need--' he whispers, but his breath dies before he can voice his shameful secret. Hannibal punishes him by taking his hand away, and cannot help a tiny quirk of his lips when Will's breath hitches at the loss of contact.

 

'You cope with stress very poorly, Will. Your nightmares, sleepwalking and... visions, they're all proof of that. It must be terrifying, not being able to find a way to calm all that. Are you sure you don't want me to prescribe something?' he says, and Will shakes his head.

 

'No, I... I actually' Will sits down in the couch 'I actually found a way to cope' he confesses.

 

'And it embarrasses you' Hannibal says, moving to stand by Will's side to reinforce his authority and Will's helplessness.

 

'Yes' he admits.

 

'Have you been resorting to this... stress relief technique lately?'

 

A nod.

 

'And it worked?'

 

Another nod.

 

'So why feel ashamed if it was successful?'

 

'I asked Jack to spank me' Will blurts out, and his sudden confession is like a sip of bad wine in the middle of a carefully orchestrated meal. Hannibal purses his lips in mild annoyance at this sudden change of pace as Will continues 'He was chewing me out one day for some stupid mistake and I... I lost it. Completely' Will's eyes shine with tears 'I told him if he was going to treat me like a child then he should... go all the way with it and spank me. And he did'.

 

Hannibal sits by Will's side, but before he has time to speak, the second confession comes.

 

'And I called him daddy' Will admits, and his voice chokes with the memory 'Don't ask me why, I... My father and I... I don't have issues, well, maybe you think I do, but--'

 

'Will' Hannibal places his hand on his shoulder again, and this time, he squeezes hard. It calms Will down almost instantly 'Whatever issues you may have, this has nothing to do with the relationship between you and your father' he lies 'There is nothing shameful in relieving stress that way. Believe me, I've heard much worse in the years I've been practising psychiatry'.

 

Hannibal smiles slightly, and is pleased when Will tries to mimic his little smile. There is a good rapport between them, and Hannibal plans his next step carefully.

 

'There is something that worries me, though'.

 

Will frowns immediately.

 

'Jack's motivations. I hardly think he has your best interests in mind, Will. If he agreed to your... idea, it was because he saw in it a way to keep you controlled and functional longer. If you had asked him to sing an aria to soothe your nerves, he would have done it'.

 

Will is about to speak when Hannibal continues.

 

'He's abusing his position and manipulating you for his benefit, Will. I must advise that you stop seeing him'.

 

Will mouths voicelessly and looks down, trying to digest Hannibal's words while putting some order in the turmoil of emotions raging in his head. He can't. And Hannibal knows it.

 

'My advise is that you see that these urges are satisfied with someone you can really trust, Will. It may take some time to find a trusted partner, and until then, I'll be very happy to help you'.

 

Will looks up in surprise.

 

'Y-you?' he stammers, even as a faint blush tinges his cheeks.

 

'Of course' Hannibal says matter-of-factly 'I'm your doctor and your friend, Will. Or are you ready to share this secret with someone else?'

 

Will shakes his head in panic. Talking about this with somebody else is unthinkable.

 

'Besides' Hannibal continues, and delivers his final blow with surgical precision 'I could never suffer naughty boys'.

 

The word short circuits Will's brain. Whatever logic he was trying to find in Hannibal's argumentation dies when he hears the word naughty. _Naughty_. His emotions peak in a red hot swirl of desire. Yes, he's been naughty. And he needs to hear it again, and again, a million times over.

 

Hannibal watches Will's face change with a festival of conflicting feelings which taste like French chantilly cream.

 

'You've been a naughty boy, haven't you, Will?'

 

Will closes his eyes and nods. He sincerely hopes Hannibal doesn't make him say it like Jack, and he doesn't. If only for that, Will feels immensely relived. And grateful.

 

'I'm afraid naughty boys must be punished' Hannibal continues, and if his voice has become a purr Will doesn't realize it 'Harshly'.

 

Will begins to shiver.

 

'And I'm sorry to say I have no patience for boys such as yourself, Will. Stand up'.

 

Hannnibal's words pull Will's strings and he obeys easily. His eyes are very big and wide now, trying to capture anything and everything to etch it into his memory forever.

 

'Good' Hannibal praises. Rewarding Will will go a long way 'Now, remove your clothes, please. You may leave the underwear'.

 

Will heart's is racing, and a nagging little voice in his head whispers that stripping but leaving his boxers on defies the purpose of a spanking. But when the next order comes, the voice is lost in the heartbeat suddenly echoing in his ears.

 

'Bend over my desk'.

 

Will likes desks. He likes desks a lot. The linear, smooth edges, the solid wood and different objects scattered over its surface. He likes Jack's desk, but Hannibal's is so much better. Warmer. Older. How many reports has he written here, how many drawings has he drawn? Hannibal's desk is laced with a heavy, mysterious past, and Will bends over it reverently, resting his cheek on the cold polished surface and taking a deep breath. He is very hard by now, and feels so grateful that Hannibal let him keep his boxers.

 

'Will?'

 

A cold  hand caresses the back of his thighs and Will jumps. And gasps. And hisses when that same hand delivers the first blow.

 

Hannibal begins a slow rhythm, spanking Will's thighs methodically, watching him squirm with great pleasure. After a good ten minutes Will begins to sob, his covered bottom exquisitely untouched when his sensitive thighs are burning in pain.

 

'No' he moans 'Stop, please'.

 

To his immense relief and surprise, the spanking stops. Will has a split second to catch his breath before a very warm hand presses the small of his back and Hannibal's lips brush his ear.

 

'You don't get to tell me what to do or what not to do, Will' he whispers, and the tone is soft and gentle as a caress 'Is that clear, my boy?'

 

Will nods in earnest, even as he feels himself leaking.

 

'Yes' he breathes out.

 

A hard slap makes him wince in pain.

 

'Yes, doctor'.

 

_Slap_

 

'Sir'

 

 _Slap_!

 

'Or papa'.

 

 _SLAP_.

 

'Is that clear?'

 

Hannibal soothes the sting with a gentle caress that has Will groaning and pushing his hips into the air between his body and the desk.

 

'Yes' Will hisses 'Yes, papa'.

 

Hannibal allows himself a slow, wolfish grin, and licks his lips before continuing.

 

'Pull your boxers down and don't move. I'll be back in a moment'.

 

Will waits until Hannibal's steps fade away to obey. The soft fabric of the cotton boxers rasps his thighs as sandpaper as it slids downs his legs, and his cock bobs free at last. Hannibal has told him not to move, but his cock is aching so painfully that Will snakes a hand down his belly to squeeze it once. Twice. He strokes it a couple more times to ease the tension and returns his hand to the desk, only to have it forcefully clamped by Hannibal's.

 

'What did I say?'

 

Will cries out in surprise, as Hannibal seems to have appeared out of thin air.

 

'A dirty, naughty boy' he says 'And a liar. What am I going to do with you, Will?'

 

The sting of the leather strap catches Will by surprise, and blow by blow it marks him red. It's only a mere two minutes and Will is coming in thick spurts, clawing at the surface of the desk and crying in guilt-ridden relief. Hannibal doesn't stop then, and delivers ten more stingy slaps for good measure.

 

Will is weeping by the end of it, sobbing something unintelligibly on his desk and whimpering like a lost boy. In many ways he is, and Hannibal cannot resist soothing the sting away with a soft caress.

 

'You are forgiven, Will' he intones, and puts the strap away.

 

It comes late, after long moments of gasping and sniffling later, but when it does, Hannibal is pleased.

 

'Thank you, papa'.

 

Will catches his breath and comes down to reality abruptly. The smooth wood of the desk is wet with tears, and Will kisses the polished wood to leave his memory there, but now he has to leave, quickly, daddy Jack didn't like him to stay after... So he looks for his clothes on the floor. But they have disappeared. Only Hannibal is there.

 

'Come, Will' he says wrapping him in a soft bathrobe.

 

Will never had to deal with any aftermath, only his raw behind on his way back home. He tenses as Hannibal leads him to the bathroom, and tries to come up with something - _anything_ \- to say. Only he cannot articulate any coherent thought just now.

 

'Come down to the kitchen when you're ready. There's no hurry' Hannibal reassures, and leaves him in the silver, luxurious bathroom alone.

 

Will looks around unseeingly, he is too far gone to remembember what he has to do here. But after a moment the sweat and smell of release makes him enter the shower, and he stays there for long, long minutes, washing away peel after peel of shame, guilt and remorse and realizing he's now more vulnerable than he's ever been before. He smells of fresh verbena and mint when he knocks on the kitchen door softly.

 

Hannibal has finished preparing _croque monsieurs_ , and the smell is delicious.

 

'Thanks for the clothes, but I think I... I should...'

 

'You're not leaving without a proper dinner, Will' Hannibal gently chides, and prepares two dishes with crispy salad 'I'm hungry myself. Are you not?'

 

Will nods wordlessly.

 

'Why don't we...' Hannibal puts the asparguses on top of the salad carefully 'meet on Fridays for...' he adds thick slices of avocado '... this recreational activity?'

 

Will looks at him blankly.

 

'Of course, you may come whenever you feel too stressed, but I think Fridays will do for the moment. Don't you, Will?'

 

Will nods in silence, unable to trust his voice to express the gratitude and devotion he feels right now. Hannibal continues in a conversational tone.

 

'Would you like to help me with the olives, please? Mediterranean, I pickle them myself, I'm sure you'll like them'.

 

Will obeys, glad to have a simple task to do. He is exhasuted, and worried, and still very much embarrassed, but Hannibal lets him try an olive before they sit at the table, and the delicious food comforts him in a way nothing could. He needs to think about so many things, but for the moment the soft classical music is playing, and Hannibal is talking about the red wine, and Will's bottom smarts so exquisitely that he pushes all thoughts aside and focuses on Hannibal.

 

Next Friday cannot come soon enough. 


End file.
